


Calling Gloria

by obviouslyelementary



Category: IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Memories, Open ended, implied sex, the losers tag means it can be read with richie and any of the boys losers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 12:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21356578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obviouslyelementary/pseuds/obviouslyelementary
Summary: "But you really don't remember? Was it something that they said? All the voices in your head, calling Gloria!"
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/Original Character(s), Richie Tozier/Original Female Character(s), Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, The Losers Club/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Calling Gloria

After leaving Derry, Richie's life changed drastically.

He was still the funny, asshole-like friend for every occasion. He tried college, being the good student he was, and he got in several, but he never felt like college would add anything to what he wanted to do. He tried several professions, he made many, many friends, and the longest he spent without thinking of Derry, the more he forgot.

The last drop was when his parents moved away from Maine. He already didn't remember his friends, and without a reason to come back every few months or so, Derry simply disappeared from his mind like dust. It was like it never existed, all the feelings, all the memories, all the happy and bad times he had there gone from his mind.

He was a clean canvas for his new life, and he liked it. So many things he wished he had buried deep down inside him were now far beyond somewhere he could reach or dig through. His life was happy and miserable at the same time, but he didn't have to think about it or wonder why. He got his first job as a comedian and as an impressionist in a few bars while he worked part time in some secondary job, and life went on like he never thought it would.

And every now and then, when he saw a small, kind guy walking by or in some company or bar he worked at, and his heart jumped harder inside his chest, he just blamed it on the drink and found himself a new, hot girl to take home. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn't have to.

And as time went by, it became easier and easier to deny and forget about those encounters.

\-------------------------

It was so easy, to pretend everything was great. He took girl after girl to his flat, since he was 20 and learning how to live on his own. They were great, the first ones liked him for him, and slowly they started to like him for how he looked, and by the end they liked him because of his money and his status. He was a great comedian, he got a lot of money, he got an expensive car and a small, fancy flat. It was perfect for one night meetings, it was great for fucking a girl until she was screaming, or having them to do all the work while he closed his eyes and let it happen.

Usually, he didn't think of anything. He let his body do the trick, he let it get excited over touches and kisses and moans against his ear, it usually did it for him. He didn't have to think about the pussy around his dick or the boobs pressing against his chest, actually the smaller the boobs, the better, so he didn't have to touch them all that much.

Some girls got really mad at him when he said it was a one time thing. Some others already knew and just said their goodbyes and left. Others didn't even stay the night. But he couldn't find any girl that held his interest. Not in the way he wanted, and he had slept with some cool, intellectual girls.

He dated, sometimes, but soon he realized it didn’t work, and he just gave up, thinking that dating simply wasn't a thing for him.

Maybe he was right, or maybe he hadn't found the right girl yet.

But every now and then, when he slept or when he drifted off too far away from the sex itself, he could hear something, see someone, that wasn't any of the girls he was sleeping with. The voice was high pitched and annoyed, or quiet and soft, and sometimes it was screaming and others it was moaning, and he could feel the softness of the skin against his fingers, and he could taste asthma medicine in his tongue.

When the dreams were more vivid, he could feel the stiffness of their stomach, a cylinder being held by his own hand, as he moved up and down, the roughness of a stubble against his lips and cheeks as they kissed.

Those were the times when he stopped sex, or he woke up desperate and had to take a cold shower. He could hear his voice being whispered with so much care and love, by a voice that was everything but feminine, and his heart pounded in his chest in despair.

Richie never thought about it. He never wanted to remember it. He pushed it down with drinks and women, but the dream followed him up to his forties, somehow.

He didn't hate it, he was scared of it. Scared of what it meant.

It made him insane.

\----------------------------

Then, Mike called.

Mike called, and suddenly, the voice, the hands, the kisses, the feeling, they all had a face, a body, a memory attached.

_'Richie!'_

He threw up, because it was too much, and if he could, he would have erased that memory from his head immediately.

But he couldn't.

_"But you really don't remember? Was it something that they said? All the voices in your head, calling Gloria!"_


End file.
